June 30, 1865

Macomb Journal

[Written for the Macomb Journal.]

The Yankee Soldier’s Wife.

By Jas. K. Magie.

            During a portion of the time I was military postmaster, our regiment (78th Ill.,) was stationed at Shelbyville, Tennessee. – I occupied the old post office, which was neatly and commodiously fitted up with distributing tables, shelves, boxes, etc. – Major Smith, now Col. Smith of he 96th Ill., was Provost Marshal on Gen. Stedman’s staff, and it was his practice every afternoon to call in the office and examine all letters addressed to citizens. I usually assisted him in this interesting labor, and often learned important family secrets, and and it was not unfrequently the case that information was thus gathered that led to the arrest of some guerrilla or bushwhacker, a species of villains which abounded in that section.

One morning, soon after my mail from Nashville had arrived and been distributed, a neat and pretty young girl, apparently not over sixteen years of age, called at the office and enquired if I had a letter for Mrs. Susan Litton. It was our practice to deliver the citizens’ mail only to the persons addressed, and I informed her of this rule. “Well,” says she, “that’s my name.”

“But you asked for a letter for Mistress Susan Litton, and certainly you are not married.”

“But I am though,” said she, with a rogueish laugh, “and my husband is a yankee soldier in the 10th Ohio Cavalry.”

“How long have you been married,” I asked, for I was now interested in the history of this young girl, and was so ill-mannered or forgetful as to stand and question her without once offering to look over the letters for her.

“Two weeks last Tuesday,” said she in reply to my question.

“And where is your husband?”

“He started last week with his detachment over in Maury county, and he told me he would write the first opportunity he had.”

“Were you acquainted with your husband a long time before you married him?”

“No; the first time I saw him was Sunday, and we got married Tuesday night.”

I ventured to inform her that perhaps she had committed a very indiscreet action marrying in such haste and that probably her husband had forgotten her by that time.

“I know better than that,” she tartly replied, “he loves me – I know he does, and he has promised to come and take me to Ohio just as soon as the war is over.”

By this time I had looked over the letters and found none for Mrs. Litton, and so informed her. A shade of disappointment flitted over her countenance, but brightening up again she said – “I’ll be in again Saturday. I know there will be a letter for me by that time,” and she darted off without giving me an opportunity to ask further questions.

The next day’s mail brought several letters for citizens, and among them I was pleased to notice one for Mrs. Susan Litton.

Major Smith came in at the usual hour and we sat down to look over the letters. – I took a peep into the letter for Mrs. Susan, and found it to be from her husband, Robert Litton. His epistle was well worthy an affectionate husband to his devoted spouse. It contained information respecting their marches, &c., and announced that a small detachment, embracing his company, would start on the morrow for a scout in Lincoln county. The letter closed with assurances of his love, and a promise to write again as soon as opportunity offered.

There was one letter in this mail which attracted the particular attention of Major Smith as well as myself. It was addressed to John Noland, and appeared to have been written at Columbia, Tennessee, and mailed at Nashville. The suspicious character of the letter, and the threatening allusion to the “Yanky soldier,” induced me to take a copy of it, which was as follows:

Columby Aug th 1863.

            Dear Jack – I am out of the frying pan into the fire. I left wheler 2 weeks ago and am now in the Yanky lines. Bill Thompson and about 40 more was took prisoners last week. I am now with old man Godfry but will leave for Lincoln county next week – Jack goes with me. Tell the old ladey I will be along in October if not sooner. I see Bill Stuert last week rite from Shelbyville and he told me I had better keep shadey he sed he herd Su Lacy had got marrid to a Yanky soldier. I don’t beleave the story but if it is so he had better sa his praers before I get site on him. I think Tom had better stay home, he is too young to fite and knock round as he would have to if he come with us. I send this letter by Bill Thompson to Nashville. No more.

From you know who,


            I don’t remember, if I ever knew, what disposition Major Smith made of this letter. I know that both of us were pretty well satisfied that it was written by a rebel guerrilla who was cheating the gallows of its due every day that he lived.

Punctually on Saturday the pretty little wife of the Yankee soldier called at the post office for her letter. Her heart beat with delight as I handed her the missive, and she gazed with pride and satisfaction at the superscription – Mrs. Susan Litton. It was probably the first time that she had ever seen the name written, and she pondered over it as if to realize that she was indeed a wife, and that the superscription was her own proper address.

She soon observed that the letter had been opened, and this she did not appear to like very well. I told her that although it was not the custom of post offices generally to open all the letters received, it was, however the custom of that office. I then showed her the letter from “Jim,” addressed to John Noland, and called her attention to the threat against the Yankee soldier who had married Sue Lacy. In a moment the color came to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with anger.

“I know who that is. I’ll be a dollar it’s Jim Wyatt. He’s a good-for-nothing secesh rebel, and jined a company that was got up for Wheeler’s cavalry. He stole two horses from Squire Caldwell last spring. I hope he will get a bullet in his head before he ever comes back to Shelbyville.”

“Perhaps he was an old beau of yours,” I remarked.

“No, he wasn’t; but he wanted to be, though, and I would have nothing to do with him. Good day, sir,” and the young lady darted off and was out of sight before I had time to ask further questions, leaving me alone to reflect upon the unsophisticated simplicity of this newly-married Southern belle.

In about a month after the events above narrated our regiment was ordered to Bridgeport, Alabama, and I was obliged to turn over the post office to other parties. – Then followed the battles of Chickamauga, and Mission Ridge, the siege of Knoxville, and the famine on Stringer’s Ridge. The winter passed, the spring dawned upon us, and then came the terribly severe, but gloriously successful campaign against Atlanta. Just as we had reached the gates of that unfortunate city, and the glistening spires of her steeples had become visible, I was taken down with a fever. I was sent back to Chattanooga, and a few days thereafter was favored with a thirty-day furlough for home. Passing through Louisville I was obliged to stop at the Quartermaster’s office for transportation. – There was a large crowd of furloughed and discharged soldiers present on the same errand as myself. Our papers were handed in and examined, and then a clerk called off the names and handed back the papers, accompanied with an order for transportation. The name called next after mine was that of Robert Litton. The name appeared familiar to me, but I could recognize no acquaintanceship in the countenance of the soldier who responded to the name. As we passed out of the office my comrade was joined by a pretty and well-dressed young lady, with a babe in her arms. I had seen that lady before. She was my old patron at the Shelbyville post office. I felt that I needed no introduction to her, and I accosted her at once. She was prompt to recognize me, and gave me a formal introduction to her husband, reminding me of my former [?] of him, adding:

“I told you he would take me home with him to Ohio as soon as he was discharged, and we are on our way now.”

“So then, you are discharged from the service?” I interrogatively remarked to Mr. Litton.

“Yes, sir, my time was out more than six weeks ago, but I didn’t get mustered out and paid off until last week.”

“Well, sir, Mr. Litton, I congratulate you on your success in this southern country. You go home to resume the duties of a citizen with a good start in domestic matters.”

“Yes, sir, I reckon I have got as good a wife and as pretty a little baby as this country can afford, and that is not all, sir – a pocket full of greenbacks, enough to buy a farm when I get home.”

“And he came by it honestly,” remarked Mrs. Litton. “You remember Jim. Wyatt, that rebel who wrote the letter you showed me once, well, he turned out just as I expected. He was a regular bushwhacker, but he is done for now, Bob here, spiled his fun for him.”

“How about that, Mr. Litton?” I inquired.

“Well, sir, just this way. I come up from Alabama last spring on a twenty-day furlough to see Susy here, about two miles from Shelbyville. I hadn’t been home three days before I heard of Wyatt being in the neighborhood. It was well known that he had committed several robberies and murders of Union people in Lincoln county, and I thought it about as well to be on the lookout for him. One day I had been up to town and was on my way home, that is to where Susy lived with her mother, when two men darted out of the woods close by the road and I was their prisoner in a moment. One of them was Jim.Wyatt; I knew him at first sight, although I had never seen him before. I felt mighty mean to be taken prisoner by him when I had thought all along to shoot him the first time I should set eyes on him. – They took my pistol and jack-knife from me and hurried me off to their camp, about five miles back in the country, where there was about a dozen more guerrilla cut-throats, and all provided with good horses. I suppose Wyatt would have shot me if he had been alone. He wanted to do it, but his companion would not let him. That night the whole party started off in the direction of McMinnville, taking me with them, and mounted on as good a horse as any of them had. They had both my legs tied to the stirrup straps. In the dark I had unbuckled the straps, and was ready to slip off the first good opportunity I should see. Just before day-light the next morning we had to pass a stream of water, and here we had to go in Indian file. Jim. Wyatt was the last man, and I was just ahead of him. I was as slow as I could be in going across, and the others had got some piece ahead. Now was my opportunity. I gathered one of the stirrup straps in my right hand, and suddenly turned my horse, and with the iron stirrup swinging at the end of the strap I dealt Wyatt a blow that knocked him off his horse and into the water. I recrossed the stream and was five miles from that place by day-light.

“Lucky for you Mr. Litton, – and so you got a good horse for your trouble?”

“That was not all sir. Before eight o’clock that morning I reached the camp of a detachment of Stoke’s Tennessee cavalry, a Union regiment you know. The Major commanding started out a small company in pursuit of the guerrillas. I went with them as far as the stream I spoke of, as that was the nearest point on my return to Shelbyville. I stopped to take a wash, and looking over into a pretty deep part of the stream what should I see but Jim. Wyatt’s deqad body lying about three feet under water. I soon dragged it to the shore, and an examination of the pockets revealed a wallet with about seven hundred dollars in greenbacks, and a small bag in which was nine hundred dollars in gold. The paper money was not much damaged by the water and you may bet I confiscated that small amount, and Susy here has kept it nice and dry for me ever since.”

I had but a few moments in which to reach the ferry boat for the Jeffersonville depot. After congratulating my friends on their fine prospects, I hastily bid them adieu. I have no doubt that Mr. Litton is now the proprietor of a good Ohio farm, and has never regretted the day he became acquainted with Sue Lacy.



To the Readers of the Journal.

            With this number of the Macomb Journal my connection with it ceases. – Mr. Magie, the proprietor, having served his country faithfully and honorably for three years, is now at home and will take entire charge of the office after this date. – All debts due the late firm to this date are payable to me, and all claims against the office will be settled by me. In this connection I would hereby return my sincere thanks for the liberal patronage extended to me.


            Macomb, June 30, 1865.



To my old Friends and Patrons.

            I am once more in the editorial chair. – With this issue of the Journal I resume the duties and responsibilities of editor and publisher. I have been absent three long, weary and eventful years, lending my humble services to the cause of my country. I went forth in the darkest hours that this Republic ever saw. I returned under the bright banners of peace – the Union saved, the Rebellion crushed, and our Government placed upon a more firm and enduring basis than ever before.

I return thanks to those friends of the Journal who have by their patronage sustained it through the vicissitudes of the past three years. Mr. Clarke, my late publisher, now retires from the establishment. He has had much to contend with, and it was impracticable for him to make the Journal what it really should be. It will now be my aim to make this paper a first class county paper. I have been at heavy expense in purchasing new type, and other material, and after I shall have completed all of my contemplated arrangements the paper will be excelled in typographical appearance by any paper in the State. It is my purpose to reduce the space allotted to advertisements, and increase the quantity of reading matter. I want no quack medicine advertisements, and these will be all thrown out as soon as the time expires for which they are contracted. By using a smaller type, neatly and tastefully displayed, I can do ample justice to my advertising patrons, and throw out the large handbill type which now mars the beauty of the paper. I want more home advertisements – I will have room for them. – There is a goodly number of business men in Macomb and throughout the country who would consult their own interests by investing in a little printer’s ink. I want to see my paper reflect the business of the county. Have we an iron foundry in the county? Have we a plow factory? Are there any stage lines running through the county? Is there a leather store in our midst? Is there a good hotel in the city? Or a barber’s shop, or a cabinet shop? or a blacksmith’s shop? or a shoemaker’s shop? or a carpenter’s shop? I want to see the Journal answer all these questions. Advertisements of home matters makes the paper look better and read better, and makes the nimble sixpence flow. Therefore I wish to see the space which I shall allot to advertisements used by our own business men, and not by the proprietors of quack medicines.

Another thing I want. The poet was mistaken I think when he wrote

“Man wants but little here below
Not wants that little long.”

Now I want a long list of subscribers. We have over five thousand voters in the county. Certainly half of this number will find the Macomb Journal, just the paper they want. I mean to merit a liberal patronage in the way of subscriptions whether I receive it or not. A little exertion on the part of friends will help much to extend our circulation. We have added over two hundred names within the last week. Roll on the ball.




Apology. – Several matters are obliged to go unnoticed this week for want of time to give them proper attention.



Please Ex – Since our return home we miss from our exchange list several valuable journals that we cannot well do without. Will the Monmouth Atlas, Oquawka Spectator, Morristown Jerseyman, Carthage Republican, and Patterson Guardian, reciprocate favors as of olden time.



Sketches of the War. – We shall commence next week or the week after to write a history of our three years’ experience in the army. It will embrace many interesting facts connected with the career of “Col. Mitchell’s Incomparable Second Brigade.” We have no doubt that many of our soldier friends would like to read these sketches. Enclose a dollar for six months, or two dollars for a year, and they will be accommodated.



A Significant Fact. – There is not a single State of the Union where the Copperheads have had a majority in the Legislature that the gallant soldiers who were fighting the battles of the country were allowed to vote. Is it possible, them, that the soldiers on their return home will vote with a party which disenfranchised them while they were periling their lives in their country’s cause.



Programme of Arrangements at
Macomb, July 4, 1865.

            At sunrise the bells of the city will peal forth a merry chime, and a national salute will be fired.

At 10 o’clock the procession will form on the public Square and proceed to the Fair Grounds in the following order:

1st – Band.
2nd – National Colors.
3rd – U. S. Soldiers.
4th – Committee of Arrangements.
Speakers of the day.
5th – Glee Club.
6th – City Council.
7th – Medical Profession.
Legal Profession.
8th – Masonic Fraternity.
9th – Odd Fellows.
10th – Good Templar Associations.
11th – Sabbath Schools.
12th – Citizens generally.


1st – Music by Band.
2nd – Prayer by Rev. Mr. Nesbitt.
3rd – Music by Glee Club – America.
4th – Reading of the Declaration of Independence, by Dr. J. B. Kyle.
5th – Music by Glee Club – Star Spangled Banner.
6th – Oration by Col. Prince of Quincy.
7th – Music by the Band.
8th – Music by Glee Club.
9th – Dinner.
10th – Music by the Band.
11th – Speech by L. D. Carr, G. T. G. L. Lecturer.
12th – Music by Glee Club.
13th – Benediction by Rev. Mr. Metcalf.

Notice – All bringing provisions are requested to deliver them at the Fair Grounds, where the committee on tables will receive them. All business houses are requested to close until 2 o’clock, P. M.

By order of



How They love the Soldiers.

            A good illustration of the love and respect the Copperhead party bear to the soldiers has been recently witnesses in this county. At a late meeting of the Board of Supervisors it became necessary to appoint a commissioner to take the census of the county, in accordance with the statute of the State. A young soldier names Haywood, living in Mound township, who has lost a leg in the service of his country, was an applicant for the position. Those eminently loyal and patriotic Copperheads who compose a majority of the Board turned up their delicate noses in contempt at this poor, maimed and worthy soldier, and then proceeded to elect a man for that position of their own stripe, and after their own hearts, in the person o John O. C. Wilson. The office pays somewhere near one hundred dollars per month, for about three months. Supervisor Reed, the Democratic oracle of the Board, thought the pay was too small for a soldier, and therefore recommended Mr. Wilson because he was a man of property, and had means to fall back upon. We think if a man could afford to soldier for sixteen dollars a month he could afford to take the census for one hundred dollars a month.



The 84th Regiment.

            No Illinois regiment has a brighter record than the 84th. Under the lead of its gallant Colonel, it has won inperishable laurels. We notice that the President has recently breveted hin Brig-General, a compliment richly deserved and nobly won. The following glowing tribute to the 84th was issued by the Major-General commanding just prior to the departure of the regiment for home; –

Head-Quarters, 1st Div., 4th A. C.
Camp Hacker, Tenn., June 9, 1865.

            Colonel L. H. Waters,

Commanding 84th Illinois.

Colonel: You, with the officers and men of the 84th Illinois, after three years of gallant devotion to the cause of our common country, in this war against rebellion, are now about to return to your homes with honor unsullied and with reputations bright with glory. Your deeds will live forever. In nearly every battle of the southwest, you have been engaged, from Perryville, Stone River, Chickamauga, Resaca, Rocky Face, Dallas, New Hope, Kenesaw, Jonesboro, Lovejoy, Atlanta, Franklin and Nashville, you have borne the Flag of the Union and the banner of your noble State, to victory, over the foe who would have destroyed the Government made by our Fathers. God has given you the victory! Remember Him. And now that the war is over, the rebellion at an end, remember those you have conquered – use victory as becomes true men, true soldiers. Return to your homes “with enmity toward none and charity to all” – I know you will be the best of citizens because you have been the best of soldiers. While we live enjoying the honor and privileges your valor has won, sacred, let us ever cherish as the idols of our heart, the memory of our comrades who have given up their lives for the salvation of our country – who fell by your sides battling for the right. Remember the widow and orphan of our dead comrades. Be true to them as our comrades were to us and to country. My comrades: Accept my gratitude for your devotion to me personally. You have been true and noble soldiers – may God ever bless you, and crown your lives with happiness, and each o you with honor peace and plenty. Be as you ever have been, true to God, to country, to friends and yourselves. Comrades! again God bless you! Good bye.

Brevet Maj. Gen. Commanding.



→ We received a call this week from Lieut. Wm. C. McClellan, of the 17th U. S. C. T., now stationed at Nashville. Mac was formerly a private in Co. I, 78th regiment, but received promotion last December just in time to take an active part in the battle of Nashville, when the rebel Hood was so utterly demoralized. Mac is home on a leave of absence for twenty days, looking fat and hearty.



The 78th Regiment at Home.

            The Journal of last week briefly alluded to the arrival at home of the 78th regiment. This regiment left Washington on the afternoon of Thursday, June 8th, and arrived in Chicago on Sunday afternoon, the 11th. We, of course, were along. The journey from Washington to Chicago was made without accident, the weather was propitious, and the boys generally were happy. At Pittsburg we had a glorious reception. A splendid brass band met us at the depot, and we were escorted through the principal streets to a large room over the Market house where we partook of a bountiful meal prepared by the fair ladies of the city. As we passed along through cities, towns and villages, and through the country, everywhere, we met the most cordial manifestations of welcome. We passed through Warsaw, a small town in Indiana, on Sunday morning. Here we were made to shout with joy. The patriotic citizens of this beautiful town met us with well-filled baskets of meat, pies, cakes, and other good things. We relished the repast heartily, and we vented our thanks in vociferous cheers for the fair ladies of Warsaw.

We had expected that upon our arrival in Chicago, a city of our own State, we would be met with such demonstrations of welcome as would make us feel that our services in behalf of our common country were duly appreciated. But we were doomed to disappointment. Instead of the crowds of people, and the shouts of welcome, and the waving of flags and hats and handkerchiefs, that we had expected, we saw about a dozen ragged urchins, and a few depot hands, who stared at us with wondrous gaze, taking us probably to be Mormons on our way to Salt Lake. We formed in line and marched to Camp Fry on the north side of the city, and from the cool and serious manner in which the citizens gazed at us from their windows they probably took us for a funeral procession. There is probably a good loyal sentiment among the people of Chicago, and they feel as much respect for “our boys in blue” as other communities, but we confess that we didn’t see it. Their explanation was that they were so absorbed with the great Sanitary Fair that they had forgotten every thing else.

Two companies of the 78th, C and I, were raised in this county. The following list comprises the names of the members of Company C who returned home on Wednesday of last week.

1st Lieut. Andrew J. O’Niel.


James K. Magie,                      F. A. Kirkpatrick,
Luther Meek,                          Chas. L. Spellman.


Joseph A. James,                     James M. Duncan,
Wm. D. Messacher,                 Lewis Hendricks.


Thomas Boylan,                      William E. James,
Joseph W. Bayles,                   Perry Keithly,
Henry Carnes,                         Joseph W. Keithly,
Philip Chaffin,                        Wm. F. McGee,
Michael Chaffin,                     Nathaniel Midcap,
John Frank,                             Silas Messacher,
John F. Green,                         Peter B. Roberts,
John T. Galbreath,                   Marion Sherry,
John Harmon,                          James Welsh,
Elisha Hamilton,                     Andrew Wilson,
John R. Hainline,                    Wm. H. Warner,
Jas. R. Huddleston,                 Jesse Warner.

The following is the list of returned members of Co. I:



John P. Shannon,                    James C. Buchanan,
Thomas Edmondson,              Z. M. Garrison,
James H. Smith.


                                    Wilson McCandless,               George P. Hogue,
S. Carnahan,                            John Hummer,
John O. Bear,                          John Myers,
Simon Beatlie.


                                    Daniel Brown,                         Thomas M. Plotts,
Michael Baymiller,                  John C. Pembroke,
Thomas Broaddus,                  Henry Parker,
John Batchelor,                       Henry G. Reed,
James M. Chase,                     Elias B. Rhea,
Samuel W. Dallam,                 William F. Smith,
Gawin S. Decamp,                  James P. Shannon,
Daniel Disseron,                      David A. Vincent,
Jacob Faber,                            Lewis R. Wilson,
Benjamin F. Gill,                     Rufus R. Wilson,
George P. Hall,                       John Weaver,
John Howe,                             James E. Withrow,
Karr McClintock.


Captain William Ervin.

            Among the returned soldiers of the war there is none more welcome home than Captain William Ervin of the 84th Illinois. He has proved a true and gallant soldier, and an excellent officer, esteemed and respected by his men. Capt. Ervin, although a Southern man by birth, and of Democratic antecedents, when treason raised its hydra head in this country, was prompt to render the Government all the aid in his power. The impaired state of his health prevented him from entering the field during the first year of the war, but on the second call in June, 1862, he was the first man in the county to enter the lists, and succeeded in raising the first company for the 84th Illinois. He has been in all the battles in which his regiment has been engaged, numbering nearly a score, and has borne himself throughout as a brave and efficient soldier. He returns with improved health, and a proud record, to resume the duties of citizenship, and we hope he may long live to enjoy the blessings of the Government he has fought to uphold and preserve.


For the Macomb Journal.

Multum in Parvo.

Macomb, Ill., June 28, 1865.

            Mr. Editor – During a series of religious meetings held in the M. E. Church at Tennessee, in this county, a few weeks since I took occasion to treat somewhat of the subject of Temperance. I said there was some difference between the liquor seller and the cut-throat. The cut-throat says “deliver your money or die!” The liquor seller says “deliver your money and die.” I was fishing for suckers, and it appears I caught one. A few evenings thereafter I received a package, which on opening I found to contain a mysterious looking bottle, accompanied by the following note: –

Tennessee, McDonough Co. Ill.
June 7, 1865.

Rev. Mr. Wimsett: –

Dear Sir: – Please accept this bottle of “good old Rye Whiskey” as a slight token of my most pious regards for you as a Minister of the gospel (?) (God save the mark.) You will doubtless pronounce it Multum in parvo, as I have not the least doubt but what you are the most competent judge in this vicinity.

Now, my dear sir, I am not much in the habit of extending such favors to Ministers of the Gospel, but as you have advertised my business so well I think you are justly entitled to it, for it will do you good – it is considered par excellent.

Please give me another puff the next time you spout.

I am as ever, yours, etc., etc.


Rev. Mr. Wimsett.

Mr. Jones is correct in saying that I would doubtless pronounce his present Multum in parvo – “much in a little.” – Although the bottle was small, still it contained enough material to make up into at least one murder, two fights, several quarrels, and have enough left if judiciously applied to cause wrangling and difficulty in a peaceful family. The bottle was publicly broken the same evening after church services in front of the building. Such presents are always acceptable, as I think I could not put “good old Rye Whisky” to better use than by pouring it out on the ground.

Yours, &c.                                                                                           A. WIMSETT.


            → The Eagle feels very bad over the poor reception the 78th boys met with on their arrival home last week. The fact is the citizens had made extensive preparations to receive them, and had delegated a man to telegraph them of their coming, but he not attending to his business properly, there was a failure in the arrangements. – But the Eagle refuses to be comforted. – It laments and it wails over the manner in which the “poor fellows who have suffered more if possible, than the second death,” were received. How kind, how affectionate that delectable sheet is getting to be towards soldiers. It almost brings tears to our eyes to hear it talk about the soldiers returning home “after an absence of three long years, during which time they faced danger in every conceivable form for the purpose of securing to stay-at-home patriots the blessings of civil and religious liberty.” Oh, Mr. Eagle, how good you do make us feel to talk in that way, especially, after publishing resolutions that every life taken by a soldier in the war was as unjustifiable as though contrary to civil law. By the way, Mr. Eagle, how comes it that if our pretended friends wouldn’t give us a proper reception, that you and your friends who are kind to us now, couldn’t turn out and give us a shout of welcome?


            → We will sell a pretty good Washington Printing Press, bed 28 x 40 inches, if applied for soon. Price $75 – very cheap.


            New Express Agent. – Mr. G. K. Hall, doing business on the east side of the square, has been appointed agent in this place for the American Express Company and has entered upon his duties. Mr. J. W. Westfall, the old incumbent, has filled his place for a number of years. The change was made in deference to the wishes of a great many of the business men of the city.


            Soldiers Dinner and Pic Nic. – We learn that the good people of Industry propose to give the soldiers a free dinner at a beautiful grove in that town on Saturday. All soldiers with their families are invited to be present, and to partake freely without money and without price.


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